It seemed as if planning the rooftop party took over any of the bands' free time. Callie hadn't been so excited about an event since their EP launch party, which she also had a hand in planning. Though she was clearly a talented guitarist and singer, Billie always wondered if being an event planner was her second calling. Meanwhile, the singer attempted spending the following month prepping for their debut as opening act to Grand Motel, rather than prepping for Ezra's embarrassment. 

Part of Billie felt deceptive for lying about her true intentions regarding the party. While her bandmates obsessed over every last detail during the group meetings with Ambrose and Jude, the femme found herself withdrawing as the weeks continued. Suddenly, the two lead singers were nowhere to be found during the meetings.

Truthfully, nobody really cared about the party as much as Callie, and everyone seemed to use it as an excuse to get better acquainted with each other. Hanging out with Grand Motel became less of a chore as the weeks progressed in the suites. Soon enough, the boys were over nearly every other night to do something with girlcrush. Everyone except Ezra.

Somehow, the male always had an excuse as to why he couldn't make it. Billie, like usual, was thankful for his absence. When they weren't talking about the party, the femme truly let herself enjoy their company. She knew how much their friendship would change the experience of this tour for the better, and yet, there she was plotting to destroy everything all for some petty reason.

Still, the longer Ezra completely ignored her presence and found any excuse not to spend time with his opening act, the more Billie stewed. He had toyed with her and thrown her aside. Yes, it wasn't that deep, but part of her had begun to believe that Ezra treated a lot of people like toys. Though he may be some broken rockstar, she was not some nobody he could step all over.

Besides, the male clearly liked games. Is it really her fault if she's better at playing them?

It's this mindset she holds onto as she begins her turn at the rooftop party. It's almost too easy. Her and Ezra had been exchanging glances all evening, though he was apt to remain fairly disinterested. That was, of course, until she slipped the rolled cigarette behind her ear. It was enough for him to cock his head towards the back exit, and it takes everything in the femme not to show her hand right then and there.

She takes her time heading over, wanting him to wait for her like she'd been waiting the whole night for him to make his move. As she turns the corner, however, her stomach nearly drops at the sight of the male leaning against the railing of the building. He's dressed in a slick button down and black jeans. The shirt is unbuttoned just enough to reveal the tattoos adorning his chest. Her eyes remain caught on the black lines before he clears his throat.

"I see you've been holding on to that cigarette I gave you," he points out with a cocky grin, and the femme is satisfied knowing she has him right where she wants him.

"Thought you'd want my opinion in person," she offers with a seductive smile, fingertips toying with the hem of her dress out of habit. Even when she has the upper hand, the male still makes her nervous.

He reaches for the white lighter in his pocket, the flame beckoning her closer as she moves to place the cigarette between her lips. She leans towards him while his calloused hands cup the light from any wind. Her eyes remain glued to his as she inhales the aromatic tobacco.

Billie isn't much of a smoker outside of the occasional joint Daria or Sloane roll. In fact, the smell of smoke causes her stomach to go sour. This cigarette, however, tastes and smells absolutely intoxicating. She takes a long draw, noting the way his eyes remain trained on her rosy lips.

"Do you like it?" he questions, fingertips motioning for her to share.

She nods, letting the smoke billow out of her nose before handing off the cigarette. "It's not what I expected," she offers with a small shrug, "Do you roll them yourself?"

He nods after taking a long drag and handing it back to her. "I do. Never liked the taste of regular ones."

"I don't usually smoke," she admits before puffing on the cigarette once more, "I find the smell to be disgusting."

"Don't let this one fool you," he replies with a chuckle, "It's still a nasty habit ... just dressed up."

It takes a few more inhales to recognize the scent. The smoke swirling around them smells just like Ezra. Now, she can't help but find his comment humorous. He, like the cigarette, is a nasty habit dressed up oh so nicely.

"It does smell like you," she admits after handing it off to him once more. He takes the final drag before flicking it to the ground and ashing it out with the heel of his shoe.

"Oh, yeah?" he questions with a raise of his brow. That familiar devilish grin begins to tug at the corner of his mouth. "So, I take it your comment about how I smell still rings true?"

Her head shakes for a moment, intentionally keeping their proximity close. "You don't smell like piss or any cigarette I've ever smelled."

"Neither do you."

The words take her by surprise. In the midst of all her plotting and stewing never had she once considered that he bothered to smell her too. "What do I smell like?"

"Amber," he replies softly, and the way he says it nearly makes the femme second guess her intentions.

She takes a moment to inhale the spring air, though her eyes don't leave his once. "You smell like cedarwood ... and clove," she muses before realizing that it's akin to a forest on fire. No wonder she feels so ensnared by his presence.

"Hm," he nearly chuckles, eyes flickering up to the night sky. She mirrors his actions, giving herself a moment to regain her composure. The light pollution in the city makes most of the stars absent, except for two constellations shimmering on opposite ends of the astral plane. "That's one way to get to know each other."

"I thought you didn't want to get to know me," she flickers her attention back to the male, almost entirely forgetting the purpose of their meeting and little game.

"No, I said we weren't going to be friends, and for good reason," he reminds before reaching for another cigarette tucked inside his shirt pocket.

"Well, we know how each other smells now. That has to count for something," she offers with a teasing grin.

His devilish grin is in full force as his eyes meet hers once more. "All it counts for is making me curious."

"Curious about what?" She questions dumbly.

"How you taste."

The femme can feel a soft throb in her core, something she didn't account for when leading him on. It takes her a moment to regain her composure, idle hands pulling at the hem of her dress. That, of course, only gives the male an excuse to rest his eyes right where he'd like to taste her.

"If ignoring me and pissing me off for the past few months has been your idea of flirting," she points out, "then you clearly haven't gotten to taste much of anyone."

The words cause him to chuckle once more before taking another drag. She allows her eyes to rest on the way his mouth cradles that cigarette. Swallowing thickly, Billie loses all hope at regaining control of the situation.

"I've tasted plenty," he assures, "Doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy trying you."

"Who says I'd let you try?" She challenges with a raise of her brow.

"You're not very good at hiding what you want."

"Well, I am such a huge fan," she finally spits, "It would be an honor to be fucked by the Ezra Moore."

His features go blank for a moment while he attempts to construct what exactly has just occurred. "Sounds like you're trying to put words in my mouth," he replies slowly.

"I'm simply repeating what I've heard from your bandmates," she corrects, "Seems like you're not just lying to them but also yourself. I mean, you really can't think I'd let you fuck me."

"I'm sure those wet panties beg to differ." The femme lets out a sound of disgust, taking a step back from him. In turn, he takes two steps forward. "Don't tell me you've never thought about sharing a bed with me."

"I wouldn't share a bed with you even if my life depended on it," she spits.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips. "You're sharing a stage with me," he reminds as his chin tips towards the shell of her ear, "That's a whole lot fuckin' worse."

"That's just about the only thing we'll share. And next time you want to see if you can stir that whiskey dick of yours, try it out with someone else. I'm not one of your fans, Ezra."

It's the first time she's said his name to his face, and she's surprised at how smooth it feels on her tongue.

"I could make you a fan, if you let me," he teases, now clearly catching on to her ruse. Billie almost feels stupid for not realizing that Ezra didn't want to win his game, he just wanted someone to play with again.

"You're such a prick," she retorts, turning on her heels back towards the party.

"Thanks for sharing a smoke, Billie," he calls out, "Let's do it again some time." The echo of his laughter doesn't impact her nearly as much as the way he says her name.